The End of the World
by RumChocolateSouffle
Summary: Apocalypse!Klaine AU. Warnings for heavy subject material. Blaine and Kurt are with their friends Rachel, Santana, and Sam trying to survive the woods, zombies, and a rumbling, icy river. No character death! COMPLETE ONE-SHOT.


**A/N: Warning for heavy subject material. Zombies, blood, guns, and apocalyptic themes. Unlike anything I have written before so let me know what you think!**

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"And that's the last of the corn," Kurt says, turning the metal tin over for effect. "We've packed the green beans and peaches."

"We should start to go to the ski lodge in the morning," Blaine says, chucking another log in the fireplace.

"I could use for a change of scene," Santana says, straightening up and cleaning her gun.

"It's not just for a change of scene, _Santana_ ," Rachel snips. "We're out of food and supplies."

"Easy, Rachel," Sam replies, rubbing her shoulder soothingly.

"How's your arm, Sam?" Kurt asks, leaning into Blaine's arm and bringing his hand up for a kiss.

"I'll have to change the bandage soon," Sam says. "I'm lucky you got that walker after I fell into the fence, Rach."

"Don't mention it."

Weeks prior, the four of them had a nasty run-in with some walkers when they were out fishing in the river. Sam had tripped into an old baseball field fence and sliced his arm badly. The scarlet blood dripping down his arm drew in crowds of walkers, their moans echoing throughout the quiet trees. They only had seconds to prepare their weapons. Sam was preoccupied with his wound when Rachel fired two bullets into the zombie's brain, inches from Sam's own neck.

They were staying in an old house for about a month - a lucky find. It was in the middle of the woods with the river to the east. It was elevated slightly, giving a good vantage point for any stray walkers. The five had of course taken precautions and searched the house for any unwanted inhabitants beforehand, as well as secured all entry points with stray plywood from the dilapidated deck behind the house. They found quite the jackpot in the cupboards and pantry. Previous owners had countless canned goods. But, that blessing is soon coming to an end.

"We've got three handguns, one shotgun, and a small pocketknife," Blaine dictates, placing the weapons on the dining room table. "Not very many bullets. And two walkie talkies." He runs his hands through his unruly hair, dusting his hands on his torn jeans. He looks older than he is - worn out from the constant alertness and muscular from carrying weapons. "Let's hope the resort has some weapons we can snag."

There is a ski lodge up a mountain to the north, hopefully just a day's walk from their current camp. If they can follow the river upstream, they should be able to make it there. Kurt thanks whatever god might be listening that it wasn't frozen over yet. But winter was on its way and they couldn't stay in the house much longer.

"We'll leave in the morning," Sam says, taking Rachel in his arms and resorting to the upstairs master bedroom. Santana retreats to the smaller guest room upstairs. Kurt and Blaine were sleeping downstairs just in case. It was quiet outside, for now.

They sit in silence for a while on the ugly corduroy couch.

"I'm afraid for tomorrow," Kurt says after some time.

Blaine looks at him, his eyes harsh in the candlelight. "Me too," he says, barely a whisper. Blaine leans into his husband, his rock, and Kurt holds him.

"I love you so much," Kurt whispers as his stomach grumbles.

Blaine sits up, looking into Kurt's eyes. "I love you too. Listen - whatever happens tomorrow -"

Kurt shakes his head, his eyes shining with tears. "I don't wanna hear it. I've said it before, I'm never saying goodbye to you."

"What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?" Blaine asks, brushing Kurt's bangs out of his eyes and holding his hands to Kurt's cheeks.

"My hair is getting long, huh?" Kurt says. "Do you want me to cut your hair when we get to the lodge?"

Blaine nods, kissing Kurt's nose. "I'd like that. I'll do yours too. Hopefully I can even out your bangs more," he chuckles lightly. Giving a grown man a full haircut with ordinary kitchen shears wasn't easy.

"I just want to take some weight off of your neck," Kurt says, threading his hands through Blaine's curls and tugging lightly.

They hardly sleep that night. In the morning, Rachel, Sam, and Santana come downstairs in silence. The sun wasn't up yet, but hopefully the dead would be less "alive" the earlier they left. Kurt and Blaine wake up with a start when they hear the floorboards creak. Any noise immediately jolted them into alertness these days.

They pack the remaining supplies in backpacks and give everyone but Blaine a gun to start.

"We'll swap every now and then to distribute the weight," Blaine says, carrying the largest of the backpacks and the pocketknife on his belt. Sam lugs the shotgun on his back, leaving the three handguns to Kurt, Rachel, and Santana.

"Ready?" Santana asks.

They nod. Rachel clenches her jaw, pale as a ghost. Sam squeezes her hand reassuringly.

"It'll be okay," Kurt says, hugging Rachel.

Blaine opens the front doors, wincing at the creak. He looks right at left and starts walking north, seeing the abandoned ski lift in the distance. He motions for the rest of them to follow. The end of the world has really brought out the leader in Blaine. Kurt jogs up to Blaine and laces their hands together. Even the leader needed support every now and then.

The first few hours of the hike were uneventful, which was a good thing. Santana had to be talked out of shooting a rabbit that was at the edge of the trail.

"I know we're all hungry, Santana, but if you shoot that rabbit, we might not make it to see the next day," Sam says. "The shot will echo for miles."

Santana grumbles as her stomach growls yet again, but puts her weapon back in her holder and they keep walking.

When the sun is directly overhead, the five take a break. They rest on rocks overlooking the icy river at least ten feet below, and pass around a can of peas each getting two spoonfuls each.

Sam winces as he pushes himself into a standing position, trying to cradle his bad arm gently.

"Sam, should we change your bandages?" Rachel suggests.

Santana worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "Can't it wait until we get there?"

Sam unbuttons his shirt and Rachel helps him out of of the sleeve, biting her tongue at how gruesome Sam's arm looks. "We should do it now. He's got dried blood all over him. I'm surprised we haven't had any run-ins with walkers already."

Blaine tosses Rachel the first aid kit and she takes out the last bandage from the package.

"Blaine, hand me the knife?" Sam asks, cutting off the hem of his khaki pants and soaking it lightly with some water from his water bottle to make a rag for Rachel to attempt to clean the wound.

It wasn't pleasant for any of them to watch. Sam stuffs his other fist in his mouth as he whimpers in pain as Rachel dabs at his arm.

"Fuck, that hurts," Sam whispers, his arm shaking.

"Shh, all done," Rachel says, tying the bandage off and throwing the old one into the river below. She hands the knife back to Blaine.

No sooner than ten seconds after Rachel had said that, Santana snaps into alertness, raising her gun. "Shh," she says, glancing around nervously as the other four ready their weapons. "Shit, Berry, you didn't do that fast enough!"

She notices about a dozen walkers into the distance, lumbering forward, hungry for flesh and mouths dripping with blood and caked on dirt. What was left of their clothing hung on their body, rags reeking of decay. Male and female walkers were fixed on the five of them, transfixed with the sight of fresh meat.

"We need to save bullets!" Blaine shouts, immediately rising to his feet and grabbing Kurt by the hand, running along the cliff, dodging boulders and sticks along the way. Kurt's foot gets caught on a tree root, but Blaine is able to cut it away with the pocketknife before taking off again after Sam, Rachel, and Santana.

Santana fires two bullets, taking out the two closest ones before noticing her friends had stopped running. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"We're surrounded," Sam deadpans, readying his shotgun and backing into Rachel.

"I say we shoot. We're almost to the lodge and we better hope to fucking hell there's bullets there," Kurt says, raising the pistol and shooting a walker by a tree.

"We might be able to push them off the cliff if we're smart about it," Blaine says, readying his pocketknife. If he had to throw it, he'd only get one shot to buy some precious time. "Spread out, try to lure them to you and hope to god they fall. If any one gets too close, you shoot. If you're out of bullets, go with someone with a gun. Make every shot count, guys."

They split up just as the first walkers become within an arm's reach away. Santana expertly dodges the outstretched hands of a male walker and kicks his feet out from under him, sending him cascading down the cliff to be lost in the rumbling current of the river.

Sam is able to push a walker with his good arm, turning his back to them so Rachel is able to kick the zombie's back with her foot. Another one gone.

"Shit," Kurt says, loading the gun expertly. He's is unable to dodge and has to shoot, the force from the bullet launching him backwards as the walker tumbles over the cliff with a snarl.

Blaine is able to fend off a few walkers, brandishing his knife and slicing a walker's cheek with the blade. Kurt goes up behind one and kicks him over the cliff, but suddenly Blaine is yanked down also. Kurt shouts, reaching for Blaine - anything, his hand, his shirt, his hair, but misses.

"BLAINE!" Kurt shrieks, peering over the cliff to see him struggling on a small ledge barely out of the spray of the river. His feet were in the water, thrashing and kicking to stay on the rocks. Kurt sees an outstretched hand that has hold of Blaine's ankle.

"KURT - GO! We can hold them off," Santana shouts, kicking another walker off the cliff.

Kurt holds the handle of his gun in his mouth, tosses his backpack to Rachel, and prepares the descent to Blaine. He sees Blaine finally kick the walker off of him but he still clutches to the earth for dear life. Kurt has to reach Blaine before the force of the water drags him downstream. Blaine's arms were weakening and his teeth were chattering from the icy cold water. The weight of his backpack was tiring his shoulders and becoming heavier as it became more and more waterlogged.

Kurt scales the rocky cliff as quickly as he can, feeling his heart drop every time his footing slips. When he's around five or six feet from Blaine he lets go, landing on his feet and rolling to break the fall.

"Blaine, oh my god, I've got you." Kurt reaches for Blaine's hand. "Let go, I've got you."

Blaine wasn't sure if he let go or his arms gave out, but Kurt grabs onto his outstretched hand and allows Kurt to hoist him onto the small ledge and mostly out of the spray of the river just as another zombie is thrown off the cliff above them and into the water right where Blaine used to be.

Blaine lets out a cry of pain as Kurt drags him to the hug the side of the cliff, clutching his right ankle.

"Are you bit? Blaine, tell me right now you're not bit?" Kurt's eyes are wild with fear as he hold's Blaine's face and inspects his scrapes and scratches.

"No, no - " Blaine responds, wincing as he leans his back against the cliffside. "Shit. My ankle - the walker fractured it or I hurt it initially when I fell."

"I thought I'd lost you forever you were gone I didn't know what happened to you!"

"I'm here, it's okay, we're okay," Blaine says leaning forward and pressing his lips to Kurt's, aching for his touch. "I'm okay."

"You guys alright?" Rachel shouts. "Is Blaine -?"

"No, no. I'm not bit. Just fractured my ankle," Blaine shouts back. "I'm okay," he repeats, trying to ignore the shooting pain in his ankle and allowing himself to be held by Kurt.

"Jesus, Blaine, you're ice cold." Kurt removes Blaine's soaking wet t-shirt and wraps his arms around his torso, trying his best to warm him up. Thankfully, there was a towel in Blaine's backpack so Kurt could try to dry him as best as he could. The color was drained from Blaine's lips and cheeks, eerily resembling the dead they were fighting so hard to avoid.

"We're all clear up here for now," Sam yells over the river current. "But I can say for how long."

"We need to keep moving," Santana says quietly and Rachel just glares at her.

"Santana is right," Sam says. "Can you climb back up?"

"Doubt it," Blaine states. "I can't move my foot without it hurting."

"Maybe we can find something in the lodge that will help?" Rachel offers. "A piece of rope maybe?"

"Toss down a walkie talkie, and you guys keep moving. Kurt and I will be okay. My backpack has a lot of the extra food. Save the batteries in the walkie talkie and let us know only when you get there and when you'll be back. Wait until the next day if you need," Blaine instructs, wrapping his arm around Kurt and melting into his warmth.

"Hang tight, lovebirds," Santana says with smile. It was genuine. "Glad you're okay, Blaine." They could tell she was sincere because she used Blaine's actual name other than some nickname.

Kurt and Blaine listen for their footsteps to disappear and then are left with the rumble of the river and each other's breathing as the only sounds surrounding them in this vast, slowly emptying world.

"Are you warmer?" Kurt questions, rubbing Blaine's arms which seemed to have increased in temperature as the breeze picked up. His lips are no longer pale and his cheeks regained the soft pink glow Kurt is so fond of. There is still a light spray from the river as it slams into the rocks, but still better than actually being in the water.

"Much."

"I can try wrapping your ankle," Kurt offers, stripping his own shirt. Sixteen-year-old Kurt would be shy and embarrassed, but twenty-six-year-old Kurt had grown into his body and his lean muscles. His face is slimmer than usual from hunger, but his strength from carrying supplies and weapons is still there. Kurt takes the pocketknife and slices two strips of fabric off of the bottom. He finds two pieces of bark that had washed onto the ledge with the previous high tide and uses it to splint Blaine's ankle as best as he can.

"That will do for now," Blaine says with a sigh of content. "Hopefully the resort has some extra bandages." He looks off into the distance, focusing on a bluebird on the opposite cliff struggling with an earthworm. It was comforting to know there was still delicacy and beauty in the treacherous world it has become.

Kurt nods. "Blaine... They'll come back."

"Hm? Oh I know they will."

"What's up?"

"I'm just thinking how I would go on without you."

"Oh," Kurt says. "And?"

"I'm not sure if I could."

"Blaine, don't-"

Kurt can see Blaine is chewing on his tongue and his eyes are shining with tears.

"I can't lose you either," Kurt says after a moment, then chuckles lightly. " _You_ almost die, and you're worried about losing _me_."

"I'm sorry," Blaine says, smiling back at him through tears.

"Come here," Kurt says, opening his arms and allowing Blaine to fit into the crook of his neck, where he belongs.

"You really smell," Blaine says after a while when Kurt thought he had fallen asleep.

Kurt laughs, really laughs this time, his joy echoing in the chasm. "Well you don't smell peachy either."

"I hope there's chocolate in the lodge," Blaine says.

"Oh god, what I wouldn't give for a cheesecake," Kurt moans, leaning into Blaine's shoulder and kissing it.

They exchange small talk here and there until the sun dips behind the horizon and they decide it is time to try to get some rest. The backpack is large enough to make somewhat of a pillow out of it. It's a tight fit, but probably a good thing so they can rely on each other's body heat. It might be a chilly evening. The river is enough to drown out any other ambient sounds and quite resembles white noise. Kurt is able to doze while Blaine is totally asleep.

Suddenly they hear beeping and static. "'llo? Kurt? Bl-"

Kurt blinks awake and feels in the dark for the walkie talkie. "Hello? Sam?" Kurt says. He waits in anticipation as the static fills the air.

"Kurt? Are you guys -kay?"

"Yes, we're fine, we're okay, did you guys make it there?" Kurt asks, motioning for Blaine to lean in so he can hear.

"We found some rope er - a crutch we can bring to you guys."

"Okay okay that's perfect holy shit," Kurt says, squeezing Blaine's hand.

"We will leave first thing when the sun comes up."

"Thank you," Blaine says, still groggy.

All hope was not lost. Sam, Rachel, and Santana would arrive and they would all head to the resort, safe for now.

"We should get some more sleep. We might have a long day tomorrow," Kurt says, laying back down and cuddling Blaine from behind. "Love you."

Blaine yawns and nods his head falling asleep almost instantly. Kurt sleeps better knowing they'll be out of this situation in no time.

The next day Sam, Rachel, and Santana are able to tie the rope to the nearby tree and Kurt is able to boost Blaine enough so he can be pulled up, scaling the cliff with two hands and one good leg.

Kurt stuffs the gun and walkie talkie in the backpack before hoisting himself up out of the chasm himself. Rachel immediately flings herself into their arms, refusing to let go.

"Here you go, pal," Sam says, handing Blaine the crutch.

"Let's get a move on," Santana says.

"Do they have food at the lodge?" Kurt says, hopeful as he refuses to leave Blaine's side.

"I've got it, hun," Blaine says, expertly maneuvering the crutch and keeping pace with the group.

"Oh my god, Hummel, you won't believe the canned goods we found!" Santana says, giddy and beaming. "Fuckin' soup, canned apples, you name it!"

"Do they have bandages?" Blaine asks, grunting as he hobbles along.

"Yes, plenty of bandages and gauze pads, pal," Sam says, clapping Blaine on the back. "If we keep moving, we should be there before the evening."

The five make it to the lodge with no terrible run-ins with any walkers; however, never once letting their alternates falter. They're able to sneak past a few in the distance without their notice. They are too busy moaning at a rabbit to see the five of them tiptoe past. When they make it to the ski lodge, Kurt collapses on the nearest chair and thanks the heavens they're all okay.

"We're should be able to stay here for a while," Rachel says, taking the large backpack and tossing it on the table with the others. "I'm so glad you're all okay." She runs to each of them and hugs them again.

They share a tearful toast of their water bottles, content and thrilled that they are safe for another month or so. They all sleep better than they have in a while that night, thankful that they are alive; but most importantly, together.


End file.
